#NerdsUnite: Pussycat ball turns hairy

#TalkNerdyToMeLover's Marie Sumner

I consider myself to be a fairly open minded person despite my upbringing. I had what I would call a “conveyor belt childhood” where I grew up in an average sized town, in an average sized house, with average adolescent experiences. I graduated high school with average grades and attended an average 4 year university afterwards.

I would say that even my experiences in college were average:  a one-night- stand here followed by a cherry-chapstick encounter with a girl there. Scandalous yes, but nothing out of the ordinary. While I definitely had experiences that I will never forget, I still consider them to be average due to the fact that I’m sure most people have had similar experiences.

Before I continue with the story, I should let you in on some of my interests. I’m a complete sci-fi nerd who can’t get enough of dress-up. Never once did it occur to me that my love for dress-up would get me into anything super kinky for lack of a better word. Not that I have anything against kinky… I’m one of those girls that got lost in 50 Shades but it’s different when you find yourself out of your comfort zone.

And…resume story.

I was at one of my favorite restaurant /bars my last year of college and my server handed me a flyer for an event that would be taking place the next weekend called the Pussycat Ball. A $20 dollar cover charge, open bar, and a chance to dress up like a pussycat, how could I not go? Besides, all of proceeds from the event would be going to help animal shelters. Costumes are totally my thing! Besides, all of proceeds from the event would be going to help animal shelters.  It’s charity!

Needless to say, I went straight to work planning my pussycat costume. Thigh high boots, fuzzy cat ear headband and lots of cleavage completed my look. Oh, and a shit ton of glitter. It may seem odd to some but I didn’t have to buy one single item for my costume; I love dress-up that much.

A week later and I found myself walking up a set of stairs with a few of my girlfriends in tow to the Pussycat Ball. Whoever had planned the event had actually done a pretty impressive job. The venue was decked out in fancy lighting and there was a fabulous dance floor. After doing the obligatory strut around the bar my girlfriends and I made our way to get some drinks.

To be honest, I don’t remember much of anything after that and I wish I could say that’s where my story stops. Completely average and nothing too exciting. Except it doesn’t stop; it keeps going.

A couple hours later and I was blasted. As in flirtatious, beer goggled, shit-faced. Oh god I was shit-faced. I’ve never had too much of a problem with beer goggles so I’m going to blame most of what happened next on the fact that everyone was dressed like cats. 

I found myself talking to what seemed like some hunk of a tomcat and I’m pretty sure most of our conversations consisted of cat noises and a bit of frisky pawing if you know what I mean. It was at this point that I did what every stupid girl does when she’s drunk and hasn’t been laid in months—I hopped in a cab with said tomcat.

The tomcat informed me that a few of his friends were having a party, so that’s where we were headed. Walking in, I assumed in my drunken state that they must have been having a costume party of their own. A few dogs, tigers, and even a penguin were all enjoying a beverage or two and conversing. Thinking this was my kind of crowd I set straight to work mingling with my new friends and flirting a bit more with my tomcat.

This must have been the point where I blacked out. I consider not remembering exactly what happened to be a gift from God because the next morning was traumatizing enough. I woke up sandwiched between some sort of fox person and what I can only assume was my tomcat. As my head pounded in my temples, I tried to convince myself that nothing had happened but the fact that my own cat costume was nowhere in sight suggested otherwise.

I was trying to figure out the best plan of escape when my bed companions started to stir. My heart and my temples began pounding in unison as my fox companion began to nuzzle his face in my neck. I turned my head, trying to get away but I accidently found myself locking eyes with the fox instead.

I started to pull away when the fox opened his (her?) mouth and said “yiff’. (I had no idea what that meant at the time but I was all the more traumatized when I looked it up.)This was my breaking point. I’ve woken up in stranger’s beds before but never with more than one other individual in it and never with random scratches down my chest.

I sat up faster than my head would have liked and looked around for my clothes. Sadly I couldn’t locate them in them so I wrapped the sheet around myself and made a dash to the door.

My tomcat sat up looking surprised (and not to mention less attractive than I originally thought) and asked me what was wrong. WHAT WAS WRONG?!?! SERIOUSLY????

I left the apartment with no phone and no clothes, but that didn’t matter at the time. Luckily, I was only a few blocks from my apartment and it was still dark outside so I was able to take my naked walk of shame home without being seen.

I still miss those boots…

#nerdsunite

Marie Sumner is a self-proclaimed nerd who never grew out of the dress-up phase. When she’s not dressing up for “charity” or getting herself into hairy situations, she writes for the costume provider, Wholesale Halloween Costumes.